


Could vs Would

by CaptainRilee



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, I couldn't decide which moment I liked better, a moment between two faves, king's landing fic, so you get BOTH
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-26
Updated: 2019-06-26
Packaged: 2020-05-20 10:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,204
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19374532
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainRilee/pseuds/CaptainRilee
Summary: "It was difficult to determine what had compelled her to speak to him that morning. Perhaps it was the months she bore witness to his interactions with others, the flinching, the sidestepping, the aversion those in court had to his presence..."Sansa wants to acknowledge Sandor in a small way.Sandor always has to growl about it.~Chapter one is a tiny author's note explaining myself.





	1. Author's Note

This is a random moment I thought about between these two characters but between Sansa from TV and Sansa in the books and Sansa's complex personal journey in general...I had a hard time deciding what aspect of Sansa I wanted to showcase. 

That being said, the next two chapters are ALMOST identical. 

There is a split in how Sansa responds to Sandor's anger. 

It's a little more complicated than TV vs Book, but to keep it simple, that's how I'm going to label them. 

If you are more interested in TV Sansa with a bite, read "Affronted Sansa".

If you are more interested in Book Sansa's tenderness and vulnerability, read "Wounded Sansa".

Enjoy! This season really fucked me up so if you like the fic, please let me know with that lovely comment button below. 

Love this fandom, you guys are magic.


	2. Wounded Sansa

She’d only been passing him in the halls on her way to the godswood. It was difficult to determine what had compelled her to speak to him that morning. Perhaps it was the months she bore witness to his interactions with others, the flinching, the sidestepping, the aversion those in court had to his presence. Mayhaps it was her own growing apathy with court life and her dissatisfaction with the hypocrisy she experienced each day. Maybe…just maybe, it was the delicate breath of understanding that was slowly taking hold of them both. 

She hadn’t even paused in her steps. She met his eyes, inclined her head and greeted him with, “Seven blessings, my Lord.” 

Her gaze had slid off of him easily, she directed her sights to the open archway at the end of the hall leading to the open air and the path to the godswood. 

Only to be stopped short by his bulk stepping into her path. She’d almost bumped into him, her skirts brushed the lacing of his boots from the momentum of her stop. She tottered a blind moment, though she was in no danger of falling, he’d only startled her, but his hand shot out to steady her nonetheless. 

His grip on her arm was warm, even gentle. His words, less so, “Chirp your courtesy’s somewhere else, little bird, I don’t need empty words.” 

The sharp stab of hurt in her chest prompted her response. “They’re not empty, my lord,” she said softly, “I meant them. They’re for you.” 

“I’m not a lord either,” he snapped impatiently. 

She stared into his face, distressed and upset in a way she struggled to master, she had only wanted to acknowledge him, even in a small way. _Why must he be so difficult?_ If he was to grump and growl, wolves can snarl better than hounds. 

“You will not abide ‘ser’ and you will not allow me to call you ‘my lord’, what addresses am I allowed?” 

His frustration was clearly visible in the tense lines of his frame. His limited patience had thinned considerably and he barked, “I’m a _dog_ , a low born get of kennel masters, not some highborn cunt. Remember that.” 

She pulled herself up to her full height, her voice surprisingly steady considering her upset, “I will not, not ever, call you _dog_.” Her vehemence took him aback. She sensed his surprise and pressed her advantage. 

Her voice dropped to a whisper, “I will not use Joffrey’s name for you. You cannot make me.” 

His anger was a flare and the little distance between them disappeared entirely, “Don’t be so sure of that, little bird,” his voice was dangerous but she couldn’t bring herself to care, “I could make you do a lot of things.” 

She hated this feeling the most, the anger giving way to the tears. The wet, helpless truth that only felt like weakness. He was absolutely right, she could not stop him if he tried. 

Her eyes were damp but her voice was steady, “Yes. Yes, you could,” but she clenched her teeth hard, almost biting off her next words, reveling in their truth, “ _but you would never_.”  

With that, she stormed away to her gods, weeping and furious, leaving a lone hound cowed beyond measure.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you enjoyed it <3


	3. Affronted Sansa

She’d only been passing him in the halls on her way to the godswood. It was difficult to determine what had compelled her to speak to him that morning. Perhaps it was the months she bore witness to his interactions with others, the flinching, the sidestepping, the aversion those in court had to his presence. Mayhaps it was her own growing apathy with court life and her dissatisfaction with the hypocrisy she experienced each day. Maybe...just maybe, it was the delicate breath of understanding that was slowly taking hold of them both. 

She hadn’t even paused in her steps. She met his eyes, inclined her head and greeted him with “Seven blessings, my Lord.” 

Her gaze had slid off of him easily, she directed her sights to the open archway at the end of the hall leading to the open air and the path to the godswood. 

Only to be stopped short by his bulk stepping into her path. She’d almost bumped into him, her skirts brushed the lacings of his boots from the momentum of her stop. She tottered a blind moment, though she was in no danger of falling, he’d only startled her, but his hand shot out to steady her nonetheless. 

“I’m no lord, little bird. Enough with that nonsense.” 

The strength of her own indignation took her by surprise, and her next words fairly flew from her mouth, “Apologies,  _ser_ , I bid you good morning.” 

Her attempt to brush past him was futile, his hold on her arm had remained and tightened almost imperceptibly. He growled at the title and did not drop his hand. 

“Careful, girl,” he spoke sharply. 

“Gods be good, I only wished to greet you amiably,” she huffed, her impatience palpable, “how am I to address you then?” 

His own frustration was clearly visible in the tense lines of his frame, “I’m a dog, little bird. Nothing more. It will do you well to remember that.” 

Her temper flared, “I will _not_ address you as such.” The heat in her tone was a shock to both of them. 

“What does it matter if it is the truth?” he snapped. 

She wrenched her arm from his grasp, with a fury she never knew she had, “I will never use Joffrey's name for you.” Her voice was a dark whisper, so angry it stole her breath. “Not ever. You cannot make me.” 

His anger was a flare and the little distance between them already disappeared entirely, “Don’t be so sure of that, little bird. I could make you do a lot of things.” 

She hated this feeling the most, the anger giving way to the tears, the wet, helpless truth that only felt like weakness. He was absolutely right, she could not stop him if he tried. 

Her eyes were damp but her voice was steady, “Yes. Yes, you could.” but she clenched her teeth hard, almost biting off her next words, reveling in their truth, “ _but you won’t_.” 

With that, she stormed away to her gods, weeping and furious, leaving a lone hound cowed beyond measure. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading, hope you liked it <3
> 
> This fandom brings me so much joy. Thank you for being here.


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